The newest issue of Twist Collective hit the Internets recently and while I wasn’t exactly blown away by this issue, three of the patterns seem to have burrowed into my brain.
I’ll be in the midst of thinking I’m being terribly productive or at least very studiously focussed when all of a sudden I’ll realise I’ve spent the last ten minutes daydreaming about the amazing Sin Miedo by the enormously talented Ruth Garcia-Alcantud (a real real-life friend, who I am so, so proud to know!!).
I’ll shake my head, slap myself on the wrist and get back down to examining the spy’s relationship with the symbolic order or flushing out how a spy is effectively his own point de capiton and will just start to feel smug again when I’ll notice I’ve been sketching little doodles of Skalva by the equally talented Gudrun Johnston and jotting down what yarns I have that might just be perfect.
I’ll scold myself profusely and pull my copy of Cause for Alarm off the shelf and start making notes about Marlow’s sudden confrontation with the Real and will be relieved to have once again be in the middle of a really good flow of good-studenting when I suddenly become aware with a confrontation with my own Real in that I am re-schematising Samara by the cablicious Mary Joy Gumayagay so that the hem falls about four, or maybe six, inches lower and wondering whether I should make the arms longer, too.
At this point I throw my hands in the air and decide to move myself to a cafe where I can study in peace. Except I can’t. These are the knitting equivalent of earworms. Until I cast on, I shan’t be rid of a single one of them.